Son of the Joker
by justincbenedict
Summary: The Joker hides from cops in sperm bank, fills a few vials. Now his son wants to meet him! Tangles w/Green Arrow,the Atom,the General...and the fun continues. Now, in Chapter 3, Bruce Wayne becomes a Big Brother of America, and has the most interesting young charge...
1. Chapter 1

PROGENY AROUSED

Jared sat the newspaper his fat friend kept proffering on a battered cafeteria table (battered at least once because Jared had thrown it during a previous incarceration in a fit of pique over the quality of rice pudding.) of the Fenton Prospers YouthVillage.

Twenty minutes out of the hole, and Jared still had the pale skin of sixty days of solitary confinement—but Otto gave him no peace. "Otto, why is this so interesting that I can't relax" Jared shrugged his shoulders at this battered copy of the Gotham City Gazette from 1999.

Otto had been holding on to this paper for Jared for several weeks, he'd found it in the library, and wanted to show it to his buddy, but of course Jared had been in "the box" for giving an involuntary hare-lip to the Fenton Prospers speech therapist so she'd have more empathy. The therapist, a former Rose Bowl Queen had since committed suicide.

Otto was aware that Jared might be hauled into court and tried as an adult for this latest outrage…and so he had to read this article really fast, and make a decision.

And Jared wasn't happy about it. For eight weeks he'd been reading old Scientific Americans and setting fire to cockroaches…he'd not even had the energy to spit at the guards when they came to feed him…perhaps he'd been off his feed in the hole.

Perhaps he would put a little ammonia in his psychologist's lemonade later…they had to give him an "out of the box" exit interview…

Otto Blevins clapped his pudgy hands eagerly as he noticed that Jared was catching on to the article. He clapped his hands again, hands that had once set fire to a daycare center because while delivering laundry for a local diaper service, Otto had thought the little tykes were sneering at him.

But Jared was nodding his head now. Otto encouraged immediately. "Jared it's inner-estin'. 'Member how you told me about your tes'tube birth? An' Wesley on Five Block says you look jus' like that evil dude, the Joker. Sez here that th' Joker once hid out from Batman at this-shere sperm bank, and the dy-rector suspected mischief on th' Joker's part, dy-reck quote there."

Jared reviewed the article quickly. He and Otto were two of maybe seven literate inmates at Fenton Prospers. And despite his extreme youth, Jared had scored an almost perfect PSAT, and was able to successfully ridicule those on the psychiatric team here at the juvenile prison.

Jared had read Freud, Maslow, Piaget, Skinner, Durkheim and the rest, and been bored with their antiquated theories long before he'd been expelled from the Laredo, Texasschool system back in fifth grade. Jared also had gotten a number of Op-Eds and articles published in the New York Times, Business Week, and Popular Mechanics while the Fenton Prospers headmaster couldn't even get into the Laredo Morning News.

Yes, this was very interesting. And Otto was grinning, his chubby face shiny with enthusiasm. He'd been trying to spark a desire in Jared to quit this place and to, more importantly, take Otto with him before Otto aged out of here and had to go to a real prison where a lot of corn holing was in his future. Would Jared take the bait?

Jared looked up, he easily read Otto's mind. "Yes, I guess I have to get out of here, meet the guy at least see if he is the pater."

Otto didn't understand Latin, but he did understand…

"Wait, I want to go with you, Jared…Cain't I go?"

Jared grinned. "Why should I take a fat pustule with me…you'd stick out like a sore thumb. You've been bothering me since we were locked up in the Corsicana ResidentialTreatment Center…since Boy's Ranch. I'm so sick of you, Otto…Besides you'll be sexy hot meat up there in the Fort Bendjoint when you turn seventeen, how can I spare the boys that…?"

But Jared, after a few minutes of amusement watching Otto sob, relented.

"I guess I'll have to take you along, Otto, for comic relief if nothing else…we leave for Gotham tonight."

A BORING ARKHAM AFTERNOON

Maurice Hilliard grabbed his head and screamed…and then screamed again. The voices, right by his ear…they were getting to him. Two aides came up to this patient, who had been committed as the notorious "Black Widower" some months previous.

"It's weird, Dennis" the tall African-American orderly said to the short bald attendant, as they tried to hold Hilliard down. "There's no schizophrenia on his record, until a few days ago… now he's kicking in the teevee, swallerin' Ping Pong balls in the rec room…it's real weird!"

Apparently next, one of the voices told Hilliard to kick the black aide in the nuts, and now there was a terrific scuffle, before Hilliard was taken off to the Seclusion area.

The Joker, his red lips gleeful, watched all this with great amusement, behind his copy of "People" magazine.

Ever since Arnold Wesker taught me ventriloquism, the Joker thought, as he pretended to peruse an article about Britney's pregnancy, life has been quite a fun-fest here at the Home. Yes, it certainly has.

Benny Price, the Joker's favorite orderly came up to him and waved something. Oooh! A letter. The Joker kept Benny smuggling mail before it made it to Jeremiah Arkham's inquisitive eyes.

In turn, the Joker gave his many Dilaudid, Fioranol and Percodan meds to Benny…the nurse's station was always hopeful that opiates would calm the Joker down, but calmness wasn't all that interesting, really.

Opening the letter, the Joker read:

"I believe I am your son. Enclosed is a newspaper article about your activities in the late 90's. Before my mother turned me over to the Texasfoster care system after some behavioral misunderstandings about ten years ago—"

Behavioral misunderstandings! The Joker laughed loudly at this, but shut up fast, as he didn't want to have this peculiar little missive catching the staff's attention.

"—Mom told me that I was the "wretched product" of a sperm bank, which didn't surprise me much since Dad's kind of a douche, my late dad, there was an accident—"

The Joker at this point became almost apoplectic in hilarity, and had to accept a cheerful blue neckerchief from the hophead Benny Price, and he coughed into it. Oh, the pleasure…an accident! The douche had an accident!

The Joker remembered how he'd self-abused, filling a few of those little tubes, emptying out the contents that apparently had been doctors or writers or scientists…he'd forgotten all about it after he'd left the Greater Gotham Woman-Owned Fertility Center…but here it was! An heir, by George!

Finally the Joker saw, through bleary eyes, that the child had an e-mail address and was coming to Gotham soon.

Well, Goodness Gracious!

STRANGER DANGER (REMEMBER, OFFICER FRIENDLY WARNED US)

"Must you drive so slowly, Raymond?" Norine Celeste Rambert asked peevishly. But Raymond just drove in silence. How boring. How did Norine Celeste get such a boring fiancée, dammit?

Who the hell would rather go to the Republic of the Rio Grande Building Museumin a shit-hole like Laredo, rather than Sea World in San Antonio? Or Six Flags in Dallas?

Norine Celeste's last fiancée was a dirt bag, but at least he liked a damn roller coaster. And he didn't make Norine Celeste put him through tree surgery school. Nope, Walker Lee didn't do much of anything but he was fun.

"Ray are you listening to me? I don't want to go to a damn building museum?"

Norine Celeste wondered if she should take her curlers out. That might get Ray hot. But if he didn't like the way she looked, why did he sign up on the Christian Chubbies & Big Beautiful Women dating site anyways?

Norine Celeste turned the radio on, her press-on nails manipulating the dial in the hopes of finding some Springsteen or at least Charlie Daniels. But it was all fuzz and static except one boring news station.

"The Laredo Sheriff's Department has updated us, Carolyn!"

"That's great, Bob. Is there better news about the survivors?"

"There is, Carolyn. After the explosion and fire at Fenton Prospers Youth Center—bomb squad says there's never been a more diabolical—that's the word, Carolyn—diabolical use of household ammonia and sulphuric acid—"

"Ugh, Bob, how awful!"

"Yes, that's right, dear. It was quite an explosion but there are actually seven survivors, not five as we said before. Out of the 6,49 staff and residents of the Fenton ProspersYouth Center, seven still live, not counting the two escapees, not five as was reported before. Apparently the creator of the bomb somehow was able to sprinkle gunpowder to a nearby Sunoco station, and that made the explosion bigger and unnecessary. These are some bad kids, Carolyn."

"Oh, Bob!"

"One of the survivors is Dr. Beverly Wilkison, a psychopharmacologist and former Daughter of the Confederacy, who has five children, Carolyn. Although Dr. Wilkison no longer has her limbs she says she is grateful to the Lord—"

Well, for Heaven's sake. "You see, Raymond? What the hell kind of place are you takin' us? They're ess-caped conn-vicks out there." But Ray just laughed.

"They ain't no criminals who can mess with me and Big Bertha, my forty-five under th' seat, Norine Celeste. Now shut your haid an'let's listen some mores."

"—must be on the lookout for two juvenile boys, teenagers, Carolyn."

"Just young boys, Bob…how horrible."

"But very dangerous. One is an overweight red haired sixteen year old, about five foot six, he was detained at Prospers for arson, or pyromania or whatever they call it, but the other a male of just thirteen has a record of, my goodness, Carolyn, throwing cherry bombs at the Houston Rodeo, to make the horses dance, murders, rapes, grand and petty larceny, repeated, REPEATED, Carolyn, weapons possessions charges, and representing rat poison as crack cocaine at the Sam Houston Middle School where the boy, whose name we cannot reveal as he is a juvenile, said he was annoyed by his fellow students and wanted to, and I quote, "thin the herd"

"Oh my God, Bob—"

"What the hell's this?" Ray interrupted, turning off the radio. Standing by the side of the highway was what appeared to be a bearded dwarf and an old woman in a wheelchair Ray would've flipped them the bird and driven on—"Charity begins at home" as the Bible says, or whatever—but the little bearded guy with an ugly Amish hat was waving a sign "STRANDED…WILL PAY FIFTY DOLLARS FOR RIDE INTO LAREDO"

What dumb-asses! Ray would've done it for twenty-five. But after they got the two of them in the car, putting the lady's wheel chair in the trunk—the old lady was a frisky thing…how the hell'd she find Ray's forty-five under the seat so damn fast?

TWO

YOU'VE GOT MAIL!

The two patients walked down the hall, fortunately unescorted. But most Arkham Asylum aides let them severely alone, anyway.

"Unbelievable, Victor! You actually got us some unsupervised computer time!" The Joker smiled at Victor Szazs, although even to the Clown Prince of Crime's hardened senses, Szazs was not particularly easy on the eyes.

Covered as he was in hash marks he'd cut into his own body, one for every person he'd killed, there were perhaps a thousand renditions of six lines down and one across. Scratched from forehead to ankles, rendered this tall scowling blond man as a prison cell wall…

Szazs grinned. "Well you know, Jokes old man, I think the institution would prohibit my openin' an account on the personals site, and you was so nice about helping me um…"

"Compose your initial profile and love missives for the ladies…Cyrano I am." The Joker smiled. "And why not, and you've found a computer to set up the account on, and you'll share it with me!"

Szazs grinned at the joker and stopped to open a door with a small sign "Suzy Rellis, Institute Public Relations Officer"

"How curious, I wouldn't think Arkham would use a publicist, they're quite better off staying out of the news, I'd think." The Joker smiled, scratching his dead white chin. "After all, I give them plenty of press, right? And so do you…why do they need an attention-getter."

"Well, they don't have one no more, they can save on th'budget." Szazs grinned. "I put Miz Rellis's corpse in a laundry bag and gave her to Killer Croc as sort of a pre-dinner snack, if you know what I mean?"

The Joker laughed loudly, and they entered the late publicist's office.

Szazs handed Joker a small computer. "Here you can use Suzy's Ipad, and I'll just go on the Dell office computer here at her desk."

The Joker handled the pink Ipad gingerly, and hit a few keys. He had not told Szazs the news about his possible offspring, just that he needed a little unsupervised online time…

And what fun this was! The Joker had sent Jared a brief e-mail, and here the boy had written him!

"Dear Mr. Joker:

We don't know for sure that I'm your son, so I'm not up to calling you Poppa yet, but I wanted to let you know that my partner and I are making serious progress coming up the East Coast towards Gotham. We traded some kiddie porn to this old geologist dude for a little bit of kryptonite that he'd been keeping for "historical" purposes, and Otto and I dissolved the Kryptonite into a solution that we put in a can of Raid bug spray, and when we hit Metropolis we took it around with us while we broke into stores and stuff, just in case we had to ward off the Big Red Cape, you know what I mean?

But we didn't run into him, though we did meet this old dude called the Prankster, who used to fight Supes back in the day. He bought the Kryptonite from us, and we had enough to get plane tickets to Gotham, but we blew part of the cash on some dynamite, as we were going to see if we could make a herd of cattle from Metropolis County Beef Farms trample into the city proper and break up traffic. That was hilarious!

And then we still had enough to take a train, but I got this cute idea that we buy some of those expensive Love Dolls, you know the full-size types the pervs use? And we kept dropping them off overpasses…one of the blow up figures was a red-head, and we got a school bus to swerve into an ambulance, what a riot! I kinda got excited watching all the bodies frying up and stuff….

The absolute best part was, one of the dolls fell by the side of the road, and a respectable looking guy in a Mazda got out to look at it, see if it was a suicidal woman, and when he found out it was just a doll, he put it in his back seat! Otto claimed he saw the dude kiss the doll, but I don't know.

Can't wait to see you, Joker!

Jared"

The Joker was thrilled. He was a two fingered typist, but he poked out "It was well worth it, what you did with the money…that's what life is about! When I was your age, I dropped a purloined hundred dollar bill off the Empire StateBuilding and caused much mayhem and rioting. Youth, yes! I wish I could help you in your journey, but as you are aware, I am a guest of the state just now. If I am not your dad, certainly I am your Uncle Joker!"

Later on that evening, there was something on the news about Superman having been admitted to the Emergency Room (for the first time in his life) of the Metropolis MemorialHospital with a flu-like symptom after tangling with the usually harmless Prankster.

Everyone watching the TV in the Arkham South Lounge noted that patient John Doe A.K.A. "Joker" seemed in unusually good cheer.

THAT WHOLE SELF-ESTEEM THING

Speedy dropped gracefully onto the roof of the Star City Presbyterian Tabernacle. The cops were all in full force outside, and there was a hostage negotiator, but Green Arrow had radioed Speedy that the girl who had taken the entire choir and youth group hostage had been unusually hard to break…and she might kill everyone!

Speedy bent over the church roof to talk to the Star City Police Chief.

"It's bad stuff, kid." The Chief said somberly. "Two of yer people, Green Arrow and Arsenal have gone in, and there's been nothing heard from either of them. And the girl is threatening to shoot everyone."

Both Green Arrow AND Arsenal couldn't quell an adolescent hostage taker? Speedy shook her blonde head. Opening a stained glass window, she consulted her notes on the case, and called in. "What's going on in there? Angela I heard you are angry because the pastor may have behaved um, inappropriately?"

A girl's voice came up. "Th-that's right. My new boyfriend hypnotized me, and I had a recovered memory. Yes, the Reverend Kearns sexually abused me." There was a pause. Then came the girl's voice again, a bit lower."Yes, Jared, I'll tell her. Uh, Miss Arrow?"

Who was Jared? "Speedy, Angela, just call me Speedy." Speedy said soothingly. "It's okay, I'm your friend, Angela. We can't let anyone get hurt. Are Green Arrow and Arsenal down there? Are they um, alive?"

"Forget about them. Jared says Green Arrow is an overblown populist windbag." The girl's timorous voice hardened. "I will kill every one of the choir members and the snotty bitches in the youth group unless you give me one million dollars and a plane to—where, Jared?"

Speedy heard the girl talking quietly with someone, and then a male maniacal laugh.

"Yes, to Gotham City. And, and we want a helicopter, not a plane just for three people. Why does Otto have to go, Jared , why can't it be just us—"

Speedy had had enough of this. "Angela, who is Jared? Is he in the youth group?"

This made the male laugher downstairs go into true hysterics.

Again Angela spoke."Jared is my brilliant boyfriend. He has saved my life. If he hadn't hypnotized me, I wouldn't have known that Reverend Kearns had raped me. Jared strangled the Reverend right in front of me, with piano wire like the Al Capone guys used, and we burned him up with acid, and put him in one of the holy water fonts yesterday just to get even, and then he said I should get reparations, and you all better damn well give them to me!"

She paused again "And Jared was the one who let me know that my parents were taking advantage of me big time—you'll never find their bodies—and my so-called friends in the youth group were plotting against me. Jared's great…" There was a giggle. "He let me kill Marion Hyslop, just to see what it would be like. But the rest of the hostages are fine unless you—"

Speedy held her forehead in one hand. "Um, Angela? Let me talk to Jared. He sounds like a real winner, and I feel I should be talking directly to him."

There was another pause. "Speedy, I'm afraid if you talk to him, you might fall in love with him and try and take Jared away from me. He has real serious charisma."

Again there was the male's maniacal laugh.

Oh Jesus. "I can—yes, I can completely assure you that those are not my intentions towards Jared." Speedy said this between her teeth."Please, Angela, let me talk with him."

There was another annoying pause, and Speedy began balling her small fists as she shuffled on the roof.

"Jared's shy." Angela said loudly. "He doesn't want to talk to you. He says he saw you in the newspaper, and you're not his type."

Speedy heard the laughter again in the background. She'd had enough. Speedy kicked in the stained glass window and swung down into the rectory, alighting on one of the ceiling rafters just above the altar. What she saw kind of opened her eyes.

Nine teenagers, five girls, four boys alive, one dead, presumably this bitchy Marion Hyslop lying with a black smoking hole where her nose once was. On the other side of the room Speedy spied thirty weeping middle aged choir members, mostly female.

On the north end of the rectory was an obese fifteen year old girl with thick black glasses who closely resembled Amy Farrah Fowler from"The Big Bang Theory" This must be Angela, Speedy thought.

The fat girl was holding a Glock model 22c semiautomatic pistol, and she was waving it around enthusiastically with the vacant smile of one who did not usually get this much attention. Although Angela seemed fond of the Glock, Speedy could tell it was a little heavy for her.

Next to Angela, the fat gun bearer was a skinny kid, the sort who would look like he was twelve when he was eighteen, though he couldn't be more than a high school freshman right now. Speedy could tell this boy was self-assured and extremely pleased with himself.

He was unarmed, but next to the slim lad was another overweight teenager, this time a boy in late adolescence with a shock of red hair that was already receding. This fat red head was fiddling with what appeared to be a nasty looking machine gun, complete with tripod and lots of bullets. Speedy was feeling a little sick to her stomach.

"I cain't git it, Jared, Ah think th' trigger's stuck." The fat boy was sweating heavily and biting his tongue, and as the machine gun swung on the tripod, Speedy saw one of the elderly choir members wet her robe.

"Take patience and enjoy it, Otto," the slender boy said in voice that was still changing. "This gun, the Schwarz lose MG M.07 was of marvelous use in our history. With the Austro-Hungarian empire, it served as just a great anti-aircraft shooter—"

"Do the Palestine Liberation Army use it?" asked Otto suspiciously.

"No, but it will serve us well with the piggies outside methinks" said the smaller boy, and with that statement, Jared emitted a frightening bark of laughter that shattered a crystal goblet that was sitting on the altar.

Speedy goggled at Jared, the slender boy. Although the fat redheaded gun wielder was wearing a Black Sabbath T-shirt much too small for him, the slender boy had a yellow button down shirt with a light pullover sweater. He looked quite respectable, like Tintin.

Suddenly the Schwarzlose MG went off, drilling several loud holes in nearby pews, and the tubby shooter clapped his hands in satisfaction, and Jared giggled as he watched three choir members faint dead away.

Speedy tentatively took her bow off her back and began fiddling with the quiver. She'd assumed she'd not been noticed. Ritalin, do not fail me now!

"Miss? Uh, Speedy?" The slender lad looked up at Speedy."Drop your bow and quiver, please, or I'll have Otto here clear out the choir. He's eager to do it, you know."

"Why don't I knock off the old bitch that smells of Ben-Gay on th' end, Jared?" pleaded the red-headed chubbo. "That'll let Speedy know we mean business."

But, as Otto mouthed "Business" Speedy dropped all her equipment immediately from the rafter she was standing on.

"Yes, as Mao said, "Political power grows out of the barrel of the gun" Jared smiled, and then emitted a loud laugh

"Mary who?" asked Otto, puzzled.

"Are you dating someone called Mary?" screamed Angela. "I'll shoot her!"

"Uh, where are Green Arrow and Arsenal, may I ask" inquired Speedy shakily. She was feeling a little under the weather now.

"Oh, Green Arrow kind of barreled in here and I had to spray him down" Jared said sunnily. "And then Otto cuffed him, and G.A.'s cooling his heels in the pastor's office."

"The pastor molested me" said Angela, as if afraid that she was losing her role in this drama.

"What, you spray him with that kryptonite stuff?" Otto asked curiously "He sure went down fast, but Green Arrow ain't Superman."

"No, we sold the Kryp, remember?" Jared giggled. "I just used a little old fashioned Mace. Works well with a boor like The Green Arrow. It stuck to the Emerald Archer's cute little blond beard, you know?"

And then Jared laughed again, a screeching sound that caused Speedy to almost fall off her rafter.

"And Arsenal is over on that pew, having a siesta." Jared smiled slightly and motioned to a nearby pew."

"What's a siesta, like a Margarita?" asked Angela, puzzled."He's just takin' a nap, Arsenal is."

Speedy looked over and indeed Arsenal was very, very much asleep on a nearby pew.

"Not so good, right Speedy?" Jared asked, looking up at the masked girl. "Hell of a time for your predecessor to sleep, right?"

Jared paused, and walked over to the pew where Arsenal reclined, and leaning down, he picked up a syringe from the floor.

"Yes, I knew of course that Arsenal was Speedy before you"Jared said with a barely contained chuckle. "Not as cute a Speedy of course—"

"Hey!" shouted Angela, pointing her Glock at Jared. "What's that supposed to—"

Jared held a palm up. "None so cute as you, babe…Just talkin'. Yeah, I learned about Speedy becoming Arsenal, and also that this old Speedy used to like drugs…the needle, you know. When he burst in, following Green Arrow to rescue the hostages, I just waved it at him, not even using Mace or anything."

"You just waved a syringe at Arsenal, who is an anti-drug warrior—" Speedy asked, disbelieving.

"Junkies are always junkies, honey." Jared said, laughing again. "I have spent most of my brief period on the planet locked in various hospitals and institutions, reform schools and nut wards, and I learned about the monkey on the back, that just doesn't leave…ever. Speedy was under some pressure about other things…who knows what? And he took the syringe greedily."Jared paused. "They say in Alcoholics Anonymous that there will be a day where there is nothing between you and a drink but God, and apparently God must not be impressed with this church, because Speedy took to his drink-substitute readily."

Otto laughed. "But it warn't skag in that there needle."

"No, liquid Valium and just a touch of Thorazine, which I was able to procure at a reasonable price. I am aware of Thorazine's power, as I have unwillingly experienced it myself." Jared snorted. "Arsenal shot up and will be out for about eighteen hours. He—"

But Jared had looked away from Speedy just a little too long, and she'd swung down from the rafter, sweeping up her bow and quiver…in the blink of an eye Otto's Schwarzlose was gummed up with an Elmer's Glue arrow, and a boxing glove arrow had knocked poor Angela out.

And now Speedy was striding up to Jared…but he was still just grinning at her! And then, before she could react, Jared reached out and plucked the mask off her face.

"Well, whaddya know? It's Mia the Mouth Dearden, an old employee of mine. You don't remember me without the sack, do you honey?" Jared smiled. "My mask? Do you recall now, dear?"

Speedy breathed in quickly. As Mia Dearden, Speedy had been a child prostitute, and now was HIV positive because of it, though thankfully she'd been rescued by Green Arrow.

But during a period about twenty months before, Mia had been whoring on the streets of Houston, Texas, working for a short but virulent masked fellow called "The Pillowcase Pimp" who Mia had always thought of as some kind of dwarf.

Jared laughed, nodding his head as he saw the slow comprehension on the girl's face. "Yup. I was eleven years old, Mia! Eleven to your sixteen, right? And I kept you and the other sluts in line, didn't I?"

"Those days are over now" Mia said firmly. "You don't rule me anymore, and you are going to jail, or juvie or—"

But then Jared carelessly swung his fist into Mia's stomach, and she fell down, howling. How could this have happened? She was a trained superhero. She'd defeated Robin in combats for practice.

But of course as the Pillowcase Pimp, Jared had known how to push Mia's buttons…she was programmed for abuse, during the eight months he'd been in charge. Now Otto was kicking Mia in the head, and then all went dark.

About half an hour later Mia came to, and looked around. My God, the cops were streaming in the church, shepherding out the choir members and stunned youth group kids.

The Police Chief came up to Speedy. "Thanks for holding them off. Angela came outside and surrendered. It seemed like she was in some kinda trance, and said you'd disarmed everybody, Speedy. You're a hero, and Green Arrow and Arsenal are in an ambulance."

But later, Speedy found a note in her pocket.

"Mia babe—I replaced your mask and put everyone else in yet another hypnotic stupor, and Otto and I sneaked out of the church disguised as choir members…the cops herded us out, though we must've looked quite peculiar in the costumes…But you have some kind of guts. So now you can be a hero, and I doubt they'll do anything to Angela but put her in a nuthouse where frankly, she belongs. I don't need the helicopter and the cash I guess. We'll find some other way to get to Gotham.

Hilarious time, right

Best, Jared (The Pillowcase Pimp) and of course Otto."

Speedy balled up the note. He didn't even try to get the money and the helicopter. Was this some kind of joke?

ENTOMOLOGY AMONG THE INMATES

Harvey Dent checked his half combed, half scraggled nape in the cracked mirror just outside the Arkham South Lounge. There had once been a time when the ladies of the courthouse from old Judge Hilda Hoskie to the nineteen year old typist Kendra Burke…they'd all voted him the handsomest of the prosecutorial staff, and that was just when he was an assistant DA.

Of course now, Harvey's face was half monster…the gangster's little acid shot had changed Dent's fortunes forever. At one time, Batman had tried to help Harvey Dent from being the murderous lunatic Two-Face…there'd been plastic surgery…but eventually Harvey had taken a switchblade to the new skin, knowing Bats was just trying to ruin his good time.

Harvey walked into the South Arkham Lounge. He spied a green haired figure bending over the coffee table, and then turned to Jervis Tetch, who was placidly turning that day's "Gotham Gazette" into a paper hat.

The Mad Hatter winked at Harvey."Someone sent our cheerful friend a present. If you can believe it, an ant farm. I had no idea the Joker was a budding entomologist."

Two-Face cocked his head and strode across the lounge to where the Joker was fiddling with the thin plastic container, containing sand and little insect figures.

"Oh, hello, Harvey. I had one of these when I was a lad, you know. Used to drop red and black ants in together, and watch them fight things out."

Harvey sat down next to the Joker on the Lounge's battered couch. He squinted his bulbous eye into the ant farm. "What's that little blue thing? That's not an ant, is it, Joker?"

The Joker grinned at Two-Face. "No, Harvey. That's an Atom. THE Atom. My little boy, the one I told you about who is planning to come and see me—he was passing through Ivy Town and somehow ambushed the Atom, and took the little piece of Dwarf Star or whatever it is that adjusts the Atom's height. At the time that Jared removed the belt, the Atom was about two inches high."

The Joker thought about this for a minute and laughed raucously, and Two-Face admitted it was rather humorous.

"Jared put the Atom into this little ant farm to me as a little souvenir of his travels. He FedExed it to me, if you can believe it!"

The Joker shook the plastic ant farm a bit. "They're called formicariums, these ant farms. It's quite distracting watching them. Almost calming. That's why the staff didn't mind my receiving this little gift." The Joker laughed madly.

"I once had diseased black rats in a Habitrail as a child. This really brings back old times."

Two-Face leaned closely into the ant farm. Sweet Jesus. He'd heard something from the Joker about this possible paternity business and wondered if there was any truth to it. The boy must have some ingeniously psychopathic qualities…

Two-Face had skirmished with the Atom once or twice, and enjoyed watching the little blue costumed figure running up and down the sand, cursing the Joker's name faintly, and frantically trying to avoid the ants and—

"Is that a tarantula Joker?" Harvey Dent asked incredulously."How the hell did that get in there?"

The Joker smiled at Harvey."Well you know, I didn't want the poor little blue guy to get too lonely."

REUNIONS, ANYONE?

The skinny kid attempted to bum a cigarette off a Jehovah's Witness standing in front of the Lonigan Eatery on Highway 51. The Witness gave the boy, barely in puberty a lecture "Sure I smoke, but I'll be damned if a boy like you—" The Witness hustled the boy behind the diner, and about five minutes later, Jared came out alone, Viceroy in his mouth, wiping off a bloody letter opener and mumbling, "Hypocrite."

Thinking about the born-again throat he'd just carved, Jared laughed loudly, perhaps a little too loudly, startling a couple of truckers standing in the parking lot…

After his smoke was finished, Jared went back inside to join the others in the booth. Still talking. Jared studied Ulysses Hadrian Armstrong from across the scuffed diner table. Fifteen if he's a day, and he acts like he owns this part of North America!

Otto's old military school buddy was certainly the martinet, Jared thought. Armstrong had abused the shit out of the poor waitress, snapping orders…great way to get your food spat in—and that crew cut of his was something out of "Leave It To Beaver."Too bad he didn't have a coonskin cap, too. Just loved authority, this kid did.

Jared supposed he should be impressed. The so-called"General" was, despite his juvenile status, Public Enemy Number Four in the state. He had a lot to be authoritative about.

But what was authority, or violence without a little fun? Jared and Otto had captured a nest of baby copperheads along the highway, and sneaked into the women's lavatory in this shithole, dropping the whole litter of glorious little wrigglers into the first commode they could find, weighing them down a bit with a fishing sinker.

See, that was fun, AND violent and a way to make yourself known…Jared sincerely hoped that the fat chick nearest to the door would be needing to pee at some point. The little buggers in the toilet would be hungry for some soft pink meat, right?

Jared was a firm believer that a restroom shouldn't encourage actual resting unless it involved someone being murdered and sent to their eternal rest, hee hee.

Jared grinned with amusement as he watched a grizzled salesman type searching in vain for his wallet at a window table. You're not paying your bill today, old timer.

Otto, for all of his apparent clumsiness, had relieved the fellow of two rings, a good watch, an Iphone and a wallet laden with cash and credit cards, just passing him in the hallway from their snake planting fun in the Ladies W.C.

Yes, Otto was a skilled pickpocket, but sadly, not much of a conversationalist.

"Warn't that sum'thin th' way we blew that sombitch up? An'Cap'n Danvers, I watched that push-up lovin' bastard fry, I did." Otto was telling Ulysses Armstrong gleefully. "Military school sucks grits, lemme tell ya."

Armstrong slowly sipped his milkshake, and then grinned."Yes, Otto, I wish you'd stayed with me and the fellows when we left the burnt down academy and gone into Gotham, to take over Black Masks's gang. We might have succeeded with your assistance, but you had to hitch back to Laredo, to drink your Texas Driver, and travel around with your old girlfriend…."

"Yup, and I left a piece of her, my Cherlynne, wherever we traveled. Otto reminisced fondly. "A foot in Austin, arm in Fort Worth, head in…"

"So what's the deal with you now, Armstrong?" Jared rudely interrupted Otto's nostalgia. "I've read a bit about your exploits, and you've got cash and money, right? Big gang?"

Armstrong fondly tapped a large gray tote bag next to the booth. "Yes, sirree. My Mauser is always by me, and it has a silencer!"Armstrong flushed with pride, as he went on. "The General is always prepared. And this bag also has quite a bit of cash in it, we opened an ATM in Bludhaven just before coming to meet you, and my squad of ex-Hell's Angels is smoking meth and waiting for me down at Motel 6 on Ravenswood Road."

Jared nodded meditatively. Sometimes he was full of giggles, and sometimes he was quiet. His mother, before she'd dropped him off at the orphanage and fled for her life, had been a bit of a quiet woman…he really should look her up.

"We got big plans, Ussy." Otto said excitedly. "We need to get into Gotham, but Jared thinks that the Green Arrow group might have warned—"

Jared tapped Otto's arm. His friend had his uses, but he often hemorrhaged information.

"Uh, yeah, Ulysses, we are interested in kind of moving in and taking over, and possibly freeing a contact of mine from an institution there, and possibly we could work together."

"That's good. I wish you luck. Gothamcan be a tough nut to crack. I think, though, that my people have other plans."Armstrong patted his large tote bag, dreamily. "Remember, Otto, you had to go dismember whats-her-name instead of helping us? I, your General, had to deal with a deserter."

Otto began to protest, looking uneasily at Jared. "C'mon, Ussy, baby. That was, like two or three years ago, an' Jared has a lot of big plans that could make us all real rich. He's been raisin' hell, man."

Armstrong snickered. "Sure, but what would you do for me, Otto? And remember I don't do owesies. Sure you blew up the school for me, but you deserted my tribe afterwards. If you want to make it big, you should desert this wimp here—"Armstrong reached over his muscled arm and rudely tapped Jared's cheek (And Jared did look rather inoffensive in his cardigan) "—and join my army!"

Jared viewed "The General" curiously. And then he looked at Otto's vacant enthusiasm. Why were they meeting with this shmuck? "The General"had had his rear kicked by Batman, Red Robin and the regular Robin a number of times, as well as the purple covered girl, called the Spoiler.

Ulysses Armstrong had spent quite a bit of time locked up in reformatories and juvenile prisons, even more than Otto and Jared combined. What made him such a winner?

Still, they needed something. Money, weapons, a crew…Jared knew that the Green Arrow family had been able to notify Batman and the Gothamcops that there was a dangerous little twerp headed their way.

Why had Jared left them alive? That Speedy, she was full of beans, you know? Jared wasn't sure where his sexual preferences lay, other than the excitement he got when he took lives…but he just couldn't knock her or those other idiots off…now he had to work around that foolhardiness, he guessed.

Also, Jared had been hoping to be able to steal up a nest egg for his putative father, the Joker. But Jared and Otto liked to party hard, and when they did get a hold of some money…it was time to gamble, to drink, to fuck up some hookers, right?

And the capers had gone a little dry lately, in their travels. Jared had few resources. In most of these hick towns the gas stations you could normally hold up had gun wielding pump jockeys…and none of the houses had brought up much booty in their second-story efforts, either.

He and Otto had been reduced to selling autographed pictures of Jesus at a nursing home.

Jared considered what he'd taken off the dead Jehovah's Witness. Two copies of "The Watchtower" magazine, a wallet with twelve dollars, and of course the cigarettes.

As Otto babbled on to Ulysses Armstrong, Jared arose casually and went to the counter and ordered a hot chocolate, dropping a few crumbs of Ex-Lax in it. He went over to the fat girl who he'd hoped to introduce the copperheads to.

Smiling sincerely to her, Jared said. "You remind me of my VacationBible Schoolteacher…you have such beautiful, pensive eyes, ma'am." They were the only parts of her that didn't weigh about 400 pounds, Jared considered.

And it was true, Fattie resembled Mrs. Dinsmore, who criticized the toddler Jared for going outside the lines in his "Rug Rats"coloring book. Little Jared had shouted "Get off the rag, bitch" at Mrs. Dinsmore. After she'd slapped him, Jarrie had responded. "Usually I charge for that, beat me beat me, baby!"

Too bad Mom was such a fag hag!

But this diner behemoth could have crushed ten Mrs. Dinsmores and her ugly aide Mrs. Iglehart too. What a cow! We have to get her on that commode.

Jared shook his Watchtower magazine next to the fat girl's"What Would Jesus Do" bracelet, and put the cup of "hot chocolate" down. He smiled. "I thought you might like this."

"Honey, you're sweet, but Swiss Miss gives me gas" the chubette said, smiling. "Thanks anyway." She pronounced it "innyways".

At the thought of "gas" Jared felt a little nauseous. He patted the woman's hand and returned to his table. It's no victory to get her fat ass on the throne if she's going to be vulgar, really.

The General looked at Jared as he slid back into the booth."Otto is trying to convince me to join up with you, and it's a joke, dude. To take my army and go into Gothamand free your so-called father, the loser…the Joker is a psychopathic loose cannon!"

Jared smiled. "Well, any cannon's better than none." Jared looked over to Otto as he picked up the General's tote bag . "Let's go, Otto. This loose cash of Armstrong's will get us into Gotham I think. Even if we have to go in by Amtrak."

Otto looked over to Armstrong. But instead of objecting, the General seemed to have fallen, face first into his omelet. "What happened to Ussy, Jared?"

"Well, perhaps he should've kept silent about his silencer."Jared responded, and gave a maniacal laugh that really woke up the diner. Jared pushed the Mauser back into the cash filled tote sack.

As the two left, Otto casually dropped a spare baby copperhead into a toddler's milk.


	2. Chapter 2

JESSICA

Jessica came around the bend, jogging hard on the Gotham Central park path. She just needed to drop five pounds. Spinning class made her sick, some days, and besides, she couldn't look at Kristen without wanting to slap her for going to the movie with Kevin right after Jessica broke up-Who's this?

A preadolescent boy, looking lost, very slender came out of the bushes. "Ma'am…have you seen a little dog? He's my Mom's and I think someone might have run him over on his bike or scooter."

Ma'am? Oh, God, I'm not even twenty-four. But Jessica stopped. "Sweetie I haven't seen him, I've just started my run—" But the boy stepped a little closer and there was a flash of metal, and Jessica felt a sting around her throat

GORDON

On the roof, Commissioner James Gordon looked at the Batman with wary eyes. He watched Batman read the strange note by the light of the Bat-Signal.

Batman looked at Gordon finally. "How many now?"

Gordon shrugged helplessly. "Seven, we think. We keep finding a new one every twelve hours. It seemed like a prank. We get this sort of thing every day, "Release the great Joker or else" letters. He's bigger than Manson."

Batman nodded. There had been a time, some months back, when Joker imitators ran around the streets, causing mayhem in Joker makeup. It really did seem that the Joker was some sort of martyr, like Mumia Abu Jamal, or Manson, or even the Indian, Leonard Peltier.

"But what's significant, is the signer claims to be the son of the Joker. I didn't even know the Joker was married." This was lame humor on Gordon's part, but it had been a tense evening. "After the first three girls were found—one in a trash masher—we got a second missive, this time on the Internet, "Free my dad, isn't four enough?"

Gordon lit a Winston. " And then we realized there was another girl, and by the time we got in touch with you, there have been three more, and Bullock just told me he's been called to the park because some poor jogger, a law student had her head cut off. Beheaded. Unless it was the work of a machete wielding mugger, that will be the eighth to this lunatic's credit. He signs them in blood, each one, "JUNIOR" carved across the right breast."

Jim Gordon looked up at the Batman to see what his reaction was, but…the Batman was gone.

STEPHANIE

I can't get over how creepy this place is. When Daddy was in one of his more abusive Cluemaster phases, I used to stay at the Open Door runaway shelter, and they were so nice, a little strict, but…God, I hope Damian is okay. He looks so weird.

Damian looked at me. "This is the degeneracy of American youth. What sort of troglodytes raise creatures like this? You criticize my mother for putting me with the League of Assassins, but these creatures—"

Damian waves a small arm at three smoking dirt-bags on the Micah House's porch steps (we're sitting on the railings) True, one has a decrepit Mohawk that needs Elmer's Glue maintenance, and the other two look like roadies. But just to mess with old sober-sides, I do devil's advocate.

"Oh, Damian. They're just troubled youth expressing themselves, don't you know? This is a cry for help from them. Their dress, their um, attitude—"

It was hard. The Mohawk's attitude was disgusting, and the black kid next to him had a huge ring—like a thick hoop earring—in the side of his nose, like a bull.

And of course Damian wasn't even listening to me.

"And their grammar is appalling. I have never heard so many double negatives. And I heard one misuse the word like. You don't use 'like' when you mean 'approximately."

"I had, like five bucks this morning, but I blew it smoking shit, man" says Mohawk to one of the roadies. "I'm like, totally broke now."

Damian shoots me a triumphant glance. One of the thugs looks over at him—Damian is ten and short for his age, and I wonder if the kid is going to try and take Damian's money. I worry about this. We will never get the child sex pimps to recruit us from here if Damian puts one of these creatures in traction.

Blessedly, all on the porch are distracted by two new arrivals, coming up the walk. A pudgy type in his mid to late teens, and a shorter, very innocent looking kid—maybe twelve? God the poor things keep showing up here. Doesn't anyone take care of them?

"Jared, I hate stayin' in holes like this, man." The bigger boy was arguing with the cherubic one. Maybe thirteen? No older. And much more somberly dressed. He's not even wearing jeans, khakis and a pullover LL Bean sweater.

"We have little choice, Otto. We can hardly rent a hotel room. And you ruined things for us at the YMCA." The blond boy looks at the three hooligans on the steps.

"Tell me, guys…is this Micah House? Are there beds available?" He smiles at the Mohawk, like a toddler Mister Rogers.

MARTIN "SCALPEL" SANDERS

Scalpel had had a bad fuckin' week, man. Dad in Blackgate, and he came home and found his step-mother shooting up his stash, and he kicked her upper plate in, and she threw him out, and now he was in this Micah crap-fest. And he hadn't gotten high in THREE HOURS and no scratch, man. Not a dime.

He looked at the little queer-boy standing in front of him. The kid looked like he might have some bucks, and the older one, Blubbo, didn't have any balls.

"Yeah. There might be beds available." Scalpel winked at Rajul, who was sitting next to him, and Rajul snorted. Scalpel and Rajul had been in opposing gangs locked up in Bludhaven Youth last year…but now they were pretty cool. And Rajul was scary. The ring in Rajul's nose was so cool—thick, and no-nonsense.

Scalpel wanted to get facial piercings, but in his heart, he was such a pussy. The giant swastika on his chest (which he kept blessedly hidden in this mixed race environment) had put him in bed for a week.

Clematis, Rajul's younger brother sat on the other side of Raj on the porch, and Scalpel knew that Clematis had a huge piercing on the inside of his lip, that he said the ladies LOVED. But Scalpel was just a wimp…he couldn't do that shit.

But he could bat this little turd on the steps around.

"Yeah you might be able to get into this shelter." Put a little menace in it.

"Excellent, Come on, Otto." The kid began mounting the steps, followed by Baby Huey, and Rajul stopped him, putting a large black paw on the boy's narrow chest.

"You got to pay a toll to get in, boy. This ain' no free ride." Rajul pronounced it "riiide"

The blonde bitch with the good tits standing with the little tiny kid on the porch stepped over to put her nose in. "Hey, Rajul, just let him in. They don't have any money, same as us."

Scalpel looked at the blonde, Steffi something. Was the little kid her brother? They'd been here for two days. Stuck together. Scalpel wouldn't mind grinding on a little of that.

And now Rajul was slowly standing up. "Shut up, Stephanie, you stuck up skank cracker. You see this ring in mah nose…it's here 'cause I'm a raging bull."

Clematis grinned, showing two gold teeth. He was tremendously proud of his brother. The week before, the two of them had ripped an ATM from a bank, emptied it, and thrown it in the river. And then had a 72 hour crack binge, and were broke again. Life was like that.

"You hear me, white boy? I'm a raging, roaring bull, an' I get what I want."

"A bull? Like Ferdinand." The boy looked up at him. The other fat kid looked a little bored. He apparently was not worried about his friend being stomped to death by Ragin' Rajul.

"Ferdinan'?" Rajul looked confused.

"Yes, it's a great children's story about this big, dumb bull who sits in a field until he's stung by a bee, and then he goes wild." The boy just talked to Rajul like they were at a goddamn cocktail party!

"Yeah, okay, but I also go wild and I sting little bees who don't give me they money…or those shoes. I like those shoes." Rajul had pulled out a knife. Not a switchblade, but a big buck knife that scared even Scalpel, who had once chopped a school secretary's thumb off with an office paper cutter.

Rajul bore down on the kid, six feet tall he was, and the boy, five two gave him another big smile. Scalpel wondered if maybe the kid was a schizophrenic, and didn't understand. No, even a nut would see. Maybe the kid's legally blind, and…

"I just love that ring." The kid reached up and TOUCHED the ring on Rajul's nose. "Do you see it, Otto?" The kid pulled the ring with two strong little fingers, and dragged Rajul's nose to the fat kid's attention.

Rajul began waving his arms, the knife in one. As the kid pulled the ring with his right hand, he took his left and grabbed Rajul's cheek.

"I think I want to see how this ring would look on my finger."

But now Rajul was out of shock and swung the knife towards the little kid's chest. Scalpel got up, to grab Fatso if he interfered, but Fatso was just watching, with a grin on his face.

The little kid shook the ringed nose (And Rajul's screaming head) a couple of times. And then, he noticed the surging knife. "Yes, that would be helpful. Thanks." SNAP! It looked as if the kid just touched Rajul's wrist, but it bent backwards and Rajul REALLY screamed, and then the kid caught the buck knife as it fell.

Now Rajul had a broken wrist, and the little psycho was using the knife to—ugh.

"Let me just get the blade pry this—ah yes. Sorry about your nose, friend. But this ring is great!"

Clematis, on Rajul's other side, came alive and dove at the little kid who distractedly stuck the knife in Clem's left eye, and then Clem was also down for the count.

Rajul lay on the steps howling. The kid dropped the very bloody buck knife on Rajul's writhing chest. After experimentally putting the ring on his own finger, he shrugged.

"Aah. I'd rather have a mood ring anyhow." The little kid tossed the ring right at Scalpel, whose mouth was wide open, and Scalpel swallowed it…well sort of.

As Scalpel choked and spit, and Rajul held what was left of his nose with his one working right hand, and Clematis used his left eye to watch his right eye be picked off the sidewalk by a visiting sparrow, the little blond kid nodded to the bitchy blonde and the ten year old, and went into Micah House.

"Yes, Otto, it's good to be home."

DOCTOR FERNALD WILKES

"Now, Batman, these visits are highly irregular." The little bald doctor looked up at the large man in the mask and long cape. "I just transferred to Arkham from West Seattle Neuropsychiatric, and I must say, I think there's much too much authority given to you people without any sort of identity. What's that costume about, anyway?"

The big caped man looked down at Dr. Wilkes. "About?" What a deep voice. Too much repression.

"The desire to keep your face hidden. Is there shame? Were you properly toilet trained? I'm not being intrusive, of course, but—"

They arrived at the cell door, and a guard opened it.

There was the Joker, in a gray jumpsuit, his feet on a table., reading the "New Yorker".

And he looked up. "Bats! Buddy! A visit? How kind of you!"

Dr. Wilkes smiled. "Joker, I hope you don't mind if Batman comes to see you briefly. He has a few questions for you, and if you can help him, we'll give you some extra privileges."

"Oh! Like pudding, or maybe I can watch the "Beverly Hillbillies" What fun!" The Joker put his feet down and rested his bright white chin on his hands. "What can Mister J do for you, old masked thing?"

Batman folded his arms and looked down at the Joker. "The police have been getting letters from someone purporting to be your son. The writer has stated that a young woman will be killed every day until we release you with one hundred thousand dollars, quote "seed money". Do you know anything about this, Joker?"

The Joker stopped smiling, and looked up at Batman as if he were an interesting specimen. "That's so interesting. Have many young women been killed?"

"There have been seven—perhaps eight women killed so far. It's been a week."

"Gosh, are you going to let me go? Or is there an over-abundance of the sweet young things…do you want to thin the herd?

I know that since the National Wildlife Service eliminated mountain lions and bobcats, there have been way too many deer running around the Gotham countryside." The Joker giggled. "Perhaps there are too many girls. You should free me otherwise, doncha think?"

Dr. Wilkes hastily intervened. "Joker, please. Or…Norman." To the Batman, Dr. Wilkes said "I told the Joker that we perhaps should give him a regular name, since he can't seem to recall his birth name…"

Batman gave the doctor a disgusted look. "He just won't tell us what his name is."

"Well, anyway, I am hoping to get the state to finance an operation where the Jo-Norman's face and body could be transformed, through plastic surgery to make him look like a regular person again. And then perhaps he could return to society."

The Joker looked up at Batman earnestly. "I chose the name Norman. It reminded me of a motel owner in a movie I saw once. I did tell Dr. Wilkes that plastic surgery didn't really work for Harvey Dent, but he is ever optimistic."

Batman looked daggers at the Joker. "Joker—"

"Norman, please." The Joker covered his mouth to keep from chortling.

"Recently, I heard from the Atom, who told me he was a prisoner of yours in an ant farm."

"Wee Willie Winkel. Yes, and then I got bored and flushed him. Glad he survived."

"Yes. He didn't come back to charge you with kidnapping, you're lucky."

"Stoic little fellow, the Atom."

"But he told me that he had an encounter with an adolescent boy who also said something about being your son. The boy found a way to disable the Atom's belt and then send him to you while only an inch tall…who was this kid? Tell me, Joker!"

The Joker turned to Dr. Wilkes. "I think Batman is not being productive for my therapy. I feel insecure. Can I go back to solitary now?"

The doctor turned to Batman. "You are upsetting Norman's quiet time, and you'll have to leave. However, if you want to deal with the costume issue, I will give you my card. I do take Blue Cross."

DICK GRAYSON

"Faith, an' I just don't know where Jeannie has gotten herself to." Bridget Clancy said as she sat with Dick and Gar Logan at Paco's Tacos.

"Maybe she got freaked out by my um, lime race, y'think?" Gar looked at Dick with a not quite cheerful grin. "We did get on really good in the e-mails."

Clancy smiled and touched Gar's hand. "No no…As an Irish girl with Asian skin, I can see why ye'd be worried about bein' different, laddie, but Jeannie was charmed by your pics. She told me she doesn't like bein' set up, but you got her little heart a' racin' you did."

Dick laughed. "Now don't give Gar too much confidence. He'll be swaggering all over the place when Jeannie finally shows up. You know he's unstoppable. He used to bother my old girlfriend Kori—"

"Who had ORANGE skin, and beautiful pure green eyes—" interrupted Gar.

"That's right. She was quite diverse." Dick said, a little worried by the pain in Clancy's eyes. Dick liked Clancy, but more as a friend with benefits, and if not that, then just a friend…because he couldn't get too serious with a girl, any girl. By day he was a cop, and at night he was trying to drive the scum out of the Haven…no time for "Grey's Anatomy" type drama.

Clancy's phone beeped, and she looked at it, smiling. "Ah there's our long lost girl. Why's she callin' meself, instead of showin. Jeannie!" Clancy smiled, and then looked worried. "What? Where? Barbed wire?"

Dick leaned over. "What's wrong, Clancy?"

"Begorrah an' I'm about to faint. Jeannie's just met up with a looney who tried to strangle her with barbed wire! She's a hidin' in an alley on 10th and Maribault!"

Dick ran out of the restaurant, Gar at his heels. When they got outside, Dick ducked into an alley, and came out as Nightwing, and Gar by this time had transformed himself into a rather large green condor, or perhaps an enormous eagle.

Nightwing took Beast Boy's claws, and the green vulture-eagle-condor-bird thing began flying and they landed on the corner and ran into the alley. They found the frightened girl, who was desperately trying to sop blood out of her torn neck.

Gar, deciding he didn't want to freak her out just then, became a flea and bounced on the edge of Nightwing's mask.

"N-Nuh-Nightw-wuh wing!" The girl gaped up at him with tear streaming eyes. "I-I guh-got attacked!"

But there was just a little bit of blood seeping from her neck, and Nightwing, evaluating the situation, picked Jeannie up and carried her out of the alley, and then mounted the world's largest green cheetah which ran quickly to Gotham General.

BATMAN

Batman arrived at the hospital a half hour later, coming in by window. He nodded to Dick Grayson, Bridget Clancy and Gar Logan, and Commissioner Gordon, and the Danish chomping Harvey Bullock.

"Miss, I don't want to upset you, but can you just tell me something about what happened? Who assaulted you?"

"It was a young teenaged kid, and then a kind of pudgy older one." The girl looked very small with her curly blonde hair and bandaged neck. "I was on my way to my date and the fat one approached me and said something about me being all tarted up, and I gave him the finger, but then I felt this thing around my neck from behind, like a um, garotte from the Godfather, you know?"

The Batman nodded grimly.

"But my Dad taught me a little self-defense, and I kind of stepped backwards onto the choker's foot, and I think I broke his instep."

"Good for you, lass!" Clancy clapped her hands, and Gar and Dick grinned.

"Yeah, but then the fat one kind of tried to grab me, and he fell over an open can of motor oil, I guess someone must have had car problems, and he fell and I ran…but I felt myself bleeding, and I just know they wanted me dead. Not my money, but DEAD."

"Batman, there have been other reports of these two young men approaching women…twice girls have run and called the police." Gordon said.

"Commish, they ain't muggers, neither. One chick, who I uh, interviewed—"

"Harvey, please don't talk with your mouth full?"

"When ain't it full? Anyhow, One of these skirts saw two kids, one about five foot two or three, and then a little bigger one, take her girlfriend by the goddamn neck an' drag her off into what turned out to be a stolen van—we checked the plates—and we still haven't seen or heard nothin'."

Jeannie turned her bandaged neck to the green boy sitting on the chair.

"Gar I still want to go out with you…and will you stay with me tonight?"

At least one person was cheering up.


	3. Chapter 3

STEPHANIE

Stephanie found Jared's lips, and they did a little tonsil hockey. She felt so like a cradle-robber…Jared was nearly fourteen, and Stephanie was fifteen and a half. Jared was also three inches shorter than she was, but he had the oddest maturity.

After Stephanie had gotten over what Jared had done to Scalpel & Co. on the shelter porch, she'd gotten into a conversation with him…sort of casually, the next day. They'd had an argument over the breakfast table about Yankees versus the Sox, and then discussed, more amicably, what a great musician Tracy Chapman was…most of the kids there didn't listen to Chapman, really.

They didn't even read the papers! Jesus how could you not read about this? 16 year old Trevlyn Bullivant, head cheerleader at Gotham Latin School had been rushed to the hospital for what they'd thought was an asthma attack, but turned out to be the effects of the new drug, Gigglebreath…Trevi, who Steph had met once at a sleepover was fine, apparently, but her parents wanted to put her in a rehab…

And Steph read the paper…and no one else in this benighted shelter did, except for Jared, who daily read the Post, the New York Times and the International Herald Tribune! He was so amazing, Stephanie thought!

She now looked into her new boyfriend's pale eyes, and wondered why she was still hiding out at Micah. Fact was, Damian had crushed the child-sex-prostitution ring on his own, and gone back to Wayne Manor…but the odd friendship she'd grown with Jared kept growing, into something else.

She wasn't really attracted to him at first. He was such a baby! But, unlike so many other adolescent boys, he'd not shown a hungering interest in her physical beauty. Stephanie could tell that he NOTICED, our Jared…any non gay boy would…she was a Daisy Mae, after all!

But Jared was too busy getting into long conversational arguments…about whether Kramer should have run off with Elaine; was Draco Malfoy really evil? Or if Grand Theft Auto IV was really worth the money…and now, that she was really attached to Jared, she wanted to leave the shelter and take him with her. But Mom would not go for that, she barely could tolerate Stephanie being Spoiler.

Stephanie stroked Jared's ash blond locks. They were blessedly alone in the lounge, except for a junkie 17 year old nodding out in the corner. "Jared? What's your plan?"

Jared opened his eyes. "My-my plan?" God he was cute, but she had to take him shopping. is so dorky for young men. I mean, God. Couldn't he wear like, a black T-shirt once in a while?

"Yeah. I mean, you came here to the shelter, and you can't stay forever, right? Do you ever think of living in a half-way house or a boy's home? Or a foster home?" Stephanie couldn't get over Jared's eyes.

They had little flecks of gold in them, and looked a little wild sometimes, although he was usually quite subdued.

Jared kissed Stephanie's neck, and she moaned a little. "I am kind of into living for today, Stephanie. Yesterday was history, tomorrow's a mystery, and I am really a today kind of guy. Besides, there's Otto."

Stephanie shook her head in annoyance. "Yeah, maybe you should consider cutting Otto loose. You have so much potential, Jared. You're smart, you did my trig homework for me three days in a row…I know people who could get you into an accelerated high school"

"Yeah, but I don't really have much of a transcript." Jared said, and then giggled as if considering a private joke.

"And Otto and I we've known each other a long time. But perhaps you're right, he could find someplace else to live, after all, he's seventeen and almost an adult."

"Maybe he could join the Army. What are you laughing at! Jared!"

CHESTER

Chester Mornington crushed the last of his G pills and snorted them, right over the commode. He was worried. What was he going to do? He was out of money, out of G pills…he had to get more. He'd emptied his savings account, and that of his twin sister, and sold his car.

He'd only been taking the G pills, first orally, and now nasally, for what, six weeks? And it made Chester forget what a fat, flabby little fuck he really was. He was always in a good mood, full of confidence, joking with girls, laughing on his own. He didn't NEED to go on dates, he could just sit and giggle at home…

And he'd been depressed his whole life, all seventeen years, man. He'd tried everything: pot,cocaine, crack, heroin, Percodan, Oxycontin…and his folks, nice people, had taken him to psychiatrists since he was five—he'd done Wellbutrin, Haldol,Prozac, Paxil, Topomax…and nothing had ever kept off the suicide attempts, the heavy drinking, whatever…except for the G-pill. And he didn't know if he could keep taking them, they kept getting more and more expensive…

True, his grades had gone down, he was no longer on the Honor Roll, he'd quit the Eagle Scouts, and was no longer playing bass for his friend's band…Chester just wanted to Giggle on Gigglebreath…let's face it, it's a sick addiction but…

But now Chester was starting to laugh, thinking about his silly problems. Oh, the G was setting in. Chester's cousin Wade had taken so much Gigglebreath that he'd wrecked his Honda 80 minibike on the freeway, and been hit by a car, and just kept laughing and laughing…and let's face it, it's really really funny, being a fat little weirdo who weeps too much HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

RED ROBIN

Red Robin landed in the middle of Ricky Listrani's six a.m. gun sale, just as he was about to take the money for 23 AK-47s from Deonte Wingate, vice warlord for the Untouchable Doughboys of West Gotham.

Listrani looked up, annoyed at the costumed intruder. "Not now, kid. Cantcha go after the Penguin or something?" He picked up one of the rifles in question and, just as his trigger finger was about to go into action, Red Robin's boot hit jawline.

"Jesus, I just can't keep you locked up, can I Ricky? You just won't stay out of mischief. But now you can look for your teeth, that'll be nice."

For his part, Wingate pulled a Glock out of his waistband and opened fire at Red Robin, who tap-danced around the bullets, almost levitating off a handspring and landing on Deonte's barrel chest.

"Not so fast, boys. Gun purchases are so frowned on these days. No one seems to have much interest in bullet studded walls anymore."

Then Red Robin landed on a toe ballet style and began indiscriminately hitting and kicking Listrani capos and Doughboys indiscriminately. Suddenly he was whacked on the back with a table leg, and he rolled in a corner, shooting out a Batarang to remove the weapon from the miscreant's paw before bouncing up and finishing the last man off.

Two hours later, Tim Drake arrived at school, and saw his girlfriend, Stephanie Brown…his sort of girlfriend. He hadn't had a lot of time for dating lately. She was with that kid again, in his Princeton sweatshirt and Docksiders.

Tim wasn't nutty about preppies. And the kid looked like he had a smirk on his face. Standing awfully close to Stephanie, too.

This seemed to have been going on for a few weeks now. The new kid, Jared, who apparently was crashing in Steph's spare room seemed to be doing well enough in school—he was in Tim's Advanced Placement History class, and knew quite a lot about the Lend-Lease Treaty—but Tim didn't like him, and worried it might be that he was immature enough to be jealous. No, not really?

"Hey Tim! You remember Jared, right?" Stephanie smiled and had a kind of protective hand on Jared's arm.

"Yeah, he's wowin' them in my AP History. Hey, Jared. Are you adjusting well? Steph said you'd not been to high school before, which seems amazing."

"Well, I took a course of independent study after fifth grade." Jared smiled at Tim, and Tim had the uncomfortable feeling that Jared could tell what kind of underwear Tim was wearing. "I'm especially happy that the school was able to get my friend Otto a job as a janitor. We're not apart too much, y'know."

"Tim! (snort) how's it going (chuckle)" Ives sauntered up. Ives was one of the few good friends that Tim had been able to get to know at school, what with being a part time super-hero and all. Ives was in a jolly mood.

"What's so funny, Ives?" Tim asked curiously.

"I took a G-pill, it's just precious, hilarious, dude…"

Tim frowned. Gigglebreath was the new drug around school. Ives, Tim knew did a little beer and an occasional bong-hit, but this was new for him. But he'd seen Gigglebreath, over the past few weeks, invade all the cliques—honor students, jocks, geeks, punk rockers…it was strange.

You took the "G-pill" and it put you in gentle hysterics for up to three hours. A lot of G.P.A's were falling, but Tim hadn't seen evidence of serious damage, as of yet. Maybe it wasn't an evil drug, maybe it was just like pot. It just made you an idiot? Just what the world needed.

Stephanie came a bit closer to Tim, mercifully leaving Jared to stare amusedly at Ives. Tim was a little grateful—Stephanie looked so cute in her pink hoodie, and he missed hanging out with her. She'd just been like ON that little dork, totally.

"Tim, I had a favor to ask you…you know I met Jared in the runaway shelter, he and Otto were homeless, and Otto's found a place, but Jared's underage, and he's so bright."

Tim looked at Stephanie, somewhat guarded. "Yeah?"

"Well, Bruce has done so much for fatherless young men, hasn't he? I think he'd be really impressed by Jared. A good student, and he's running track a little bit, and on the Chess Team. My mom loves him, he taught her a new way to make bullion, but we have such a small place."

Oh shit. "Stephanie, you as no one else has to be able to understand why Bruce has a very private life, you know…me and Damien and Dick in and out—"

"Oh, no, I wasn't really implying he should move in with you guys, but—"

Oh no. That's not what you were implying. But try winning an argument with a woman.

GOTHAM GAZETTE

January 25—Chester Mornington, aged 17, held up a Quik-Mart yesterday, while laughing hysterically. After getting the cash, and shooting Robyn Lovell, the cashier and Audrey Newcombe, a customer, Mornington left the store, and disrobed entirely, lying on the pavement and laughing until police arrived. It was said that Mornington was under the drugged effects of the new stimulant, Gigglebreath.

OTTO

Otto moved his mop up and down the Student Armory, watching the kids drift in…the look in their eyes. There was a girl last period, she didn't have enough to buy six pills, so she gave Otto a little bit of you-know-what in the back room. Otto had never gotten to screw around with girls like this, and now they were his goddamn slaves, man…this was just the best thing he and Jared had come up with…

But there was a little problem…Otto had been taking the G-pills himself. He'd tried orally, and now he was melting them down and shooting them up with cocaine and heroin…it was like a three way speedball. If Jared found out that Otto was messing around with the product, he'd kill him.

THE JOKER

The Joker was quite amused. Although the police and the mayor had insisted on a "we don't negotiate with terrorists" plan, Dr. Fernald Wilkes had pronounced the Joker (or "Norman Bates", his new name) cured just as a Congressman's daughter had been slaughtered, and so there had been no objections when the Joker was released (and to think, it had only taken thirty-seven girls!) and now the Joker was in Dr. Jonathan Crane's living room, looking at some specs for the new drug, Gigglebreath.

The Scarecrow smiled at Joker. "Your son's idea of taking 94% of my fear gas and putting a bit of your laughing poison, mixed with Valium, was such an efficacious plan, Joker. The American adolescent is so depressed, and a little cheer seems to be infectious, and we've been able to keep the price down."

The Joker just smiled. Harley had done a DNA test on he and Jared, and it turned out they were indeed, related. "And I found out also that you don't have green blood, Puddin' like we suspected."

The Joker had offered to take in Jared, as he had much hidden cash, and could provide the boy with an interesting upbringing, but Jared had insisted on remaining a free agent.

But the boy dropped by now and then, and had used his amazing chemistry skills, working with the Scarecrow, to create this interesting moneymaker.

The Joker sighed. Most parents would be thrilled with a boy like Jared—no interest in alcohol or narcotics, not even a smoker, and he read like a demon and could do mental trigonometry.

He had little interest in sex. Apparently this really impressed the stupid blonde teenybopper who was housing him. Daughter of the Cluemaster, she couldn't believe she'd found a cute boy who respected her!

Shame he was so interested in murder, death and destruction—with those boyish good looks, Jared could have been a Republican senator, or perhaps a televangelist.

And, also because he resembled such a choir boy, Jared had been able to distribute Gigglebreath to all the high schools, colleges, church youth groups, Boy Scout Troops and Boy's Athletic Clubs in the Gotham metropolitan area.

"But now I think it's time to strengthen the pills a bit" Jonathan Crane said to Joker happily. "Jared had the idea that they might be more addictive"

"But Scarecrow, what if it causes harm or death?" The Joker rolled his eyes "Among our young, and all that."

Jonathan Crane looked at him in a comic-serious way, and they both burst into hysterical laughter.

TARYN DEMARS

He looked so lost, for a playboy, a billionaire playboy, Bruce Wayne could be such a square! He must know where to get G pills. Every girl wants them.

"Brucie when I'm in a good mood I do whatever my guy wants, you know?" Taryn smiled at Bruce.

"Really? Would you scrub my kitchen?" Those big eyes, the big shoulders. The hint of a grin.

See, that's not funny. He thinks that's funny. When I was out with Pinky Paget of Paget Oldsmobile-Nissan…HE bought me blow, Dom Perignon, and a bunch of other stuff, but we broke off after Pinky's wife found us together, and that was before G pills. I've had to pay for my G's myself, and that's a real drag.

"What's the deal with the G pill, Taryn? Why do you need me to buy them?" Bruce asked, his eyes sparkling. "You don't seem like you need to be cheered up into giggling for this, uh, Gigglebreath?"

"Bruce" She was trying not to roll her eyes. "Life's hard, even for a supermodel who is like, um, aging out? And no, I don't want a job with Wayne Enterprises, I'd be a shitty receptionist."

Taryn stroked Bruce's muscular arm, and tried to stare meaningfully into his eyes. But he always seemed like he was just amused.

"A terrible secretary. Really I would. I just need a few laughs. Daddy's allowance doesn't cover much, just my rent plus three or four outfits a week. The alimony from Anders helps a little, too…but the G pills, I need the giggles, dude. After you've giggled with G, you don't giggle too much on your own, you know what I mean?"

"Where do you get your G's, Taryn…I'd like to meet your dope-man. He must be hilarious."

Oh, Bruce!

THE BLACK MASK

"Goddamn it, no one wants my crack anymore." The Black Mask was getting edgy. He looked at his subordinates with disgust. "I'd love to distribute this Gigglebreath, but someone else is doing it. Can't any of you find out who that someone is?"

Adolphus "Chisel" Chisholm, the Mask's current second-in-command looked lost. "I think it's someone involved with the Joker, you know they let him out of Arkham, and I think this may be his new gig."

"Well, Chisel, you've got guns, we've got money, we can convince the suppliers to give us some of the damn G!" The Mask was getting a bit restive. Things usually went his way. He'd had some trouble with the Red Hood, but since then he'd been able to work through and pile up a great fortune with drugs and illegal munitions.

Chisel's cell rang, and he took it out of his pocket and listened. "Okay. Send him in." Chisel looked at the Black Mask. "Boss, this apparently is the supplier of the Gigglebreath. He says he has a deal for us.

The door opened, and a short, blonde teenage boy walked in.

"Kid, the Captain Kangaroo studio ain't here!" screamed Black Mask. "How the hell did you get in?"

The short blond boy reached into his jacket and pulled out a Glock bigger than his own head. He shot Chisel Chisholm in the mouth, and he fell dead, and then pointed the weapon at Black Mask, who, despite a hardened courage, felt himself wetting his pants.

"I'm here to deal, if you want to be my Gigglebreath mule, Maskie." The kid waved the gun a little more. "I shot your receptionist and the stooge here. Need I do more?"

TIM DRAKE

"I'm just a little puzzled…" Tim looked at Bruce curiously. "You…with all you have to do at Wayne Foundation, and also night patrol, you have time to be a Big Brother of America?"

"Well, this friend of yours—"

"Friend of Stephanie's." Tim said, firmly. Jesus, why did people think that little creep is my friend. But he's not a creep, just… I don't know.

"Yes, Steph asked me to help Jared, and I am excited to do so. He sounds like a bright kid. I did apply through the Big Brothers, so I could do it in an untoward way, it's not like the old days. But don't worry, Tim, I'm not going to slap him in costume, like you and Dick and Jason."

Tim could see it was painful for Bruce to mention Jason Todd, considering Jason's "death" and resurrection as the Red Hood. But Bruce did his best with all of us, and maybe that was what this kid Jared needs.

Bruce looked troubled, though.

"Bruce, don't be upset. I'm not going to be all jealous and stuff. I wasn't—I just was asking questions."

"No, it's not that, it's something a little more serious. Jared told me that he came to Gotham, as a pilgrimage to meet his father, his natural father, who he also wants to have a relationship with…but, due to some circumstances, he doesn't think he should live with his dad…and I'm afraid I am acquainted with his father, and…"

"What, you don't get along or something? Is this guy a business rival or something?" Tim asked, wondering. Most people, even those who didn't like Bruce Wayne, usually kept it to themselves, him being a billionaire, and all.

In response, Bruce held his head in his hands.


End file.
